


Never Ending Record

by WindMeister8



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Inspiration, Muses, Music, Piano, composer, signature, song writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4597665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindMeister8/pseuds/WindMeister8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously a successful music composer and song writer, Levi has lost his creativity and passion for life. On one of his walks down memory lane, will he be able to rekindle his energy for life and writing once more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Ending Record

**Author's Note:**

> **(AU Note: For maximum effect, listen to[this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLdUmu0-akQ))**

Agile fingers danced over the keys of the Steinway grand piano, weaving a sad but melodious tune that echoed through the large apartment. Midway through a phrase, the playing stopped and the scrunching of paper followed. The legs of the piano bench scratched against the hardwood floor as the player stood up and walked towards the living room, navigating around the balls of paper that were scattered on the floor. Wrapping his coat around him, he stepped out of his apartment and headed outside to face the brittle winter conditions.

A fresh blanket of snow coated the pavements and roads, mostly untouched and devoid of footprints or tire tracks. As he walked, the scrunching sound of his boots sinking into the snow reminded him of the beats of his old songs. Tapping his fingers on his hips, he looked at the all-too-familiar landscape now covered in white. White like the blank slate of his mind. White like the creativity that he had. Which was to say, none.

He pulled his hood up, covering his raven hair from the falling snow. His limited eyesight almost caused him to collide into a young girl and her mother. Mumbling a curt apology, he walked on but his gaze followed the girl as she danced in the snow, purposefully leaving her footprints everywhere in the hopes of making a pattern. His lip curled upwards as he remembered how _she_ had used to do the same thing. Each time it snowed, she would pull him outdoors and use her footprints to draw pictures. Pictures of birds, clouds, plants, …anything.  He had been content watching her excitedly walk over and over in the snow, creating her new design. Every time, it was something new, something brilliant.

He admired how her creativity flowed without end and never ceased to amaze him. Be it in snow pictures or music. She was his muse, his inspiration, his everything. With her around, he could write piece after piece and each one would be an instant hit. At the end of each piece, she would add her special signature – a small red heart with the words _‘(F/N) & Levi’_. To give it an even more personal touch, she would lean down and kiss the music sheet, leaving traces of her lipstick on the pure white paper. Jokingly, he would swat her on the head, cursing her for dirtying his score. But they both knew he didn’t mean it. 

Every evening, they would spend their time in the large living room with him on the piano and her standing by his side, singing along to the song. Her crystal-like voice complimented each note he played, the ethereal combination of piano and vocals enticing any occupants in the building that heard it.

Those two years with her was like living in a dream. The music, the laughter, the passion were all burnt into his memory, never to be forgotten. But eventually, dreams have to come to an end. Since birth, her constitution had always been fragile and combined with the harsh winter conditions, she was like a wilting flower. Day by day, he watched her deteriorate. Her complexion grew paler, her round cheeks became more shrunken, and her eyes that were once vibrant and full of energy showed no sign of life. She had become a shell of her former self. 

He brought her to doctor after doctor, the best that money could buy, but all of them reached the same diagnosis. That she would die in a month. He had broken down in despair, weeping like he never had before in his entire life. She had been there for him, gently rubbing his back while his head rested between her bosoms. While he cried into her chest, she softly sang his latest piece of meetings and farewells – how sadly appropriate. 

Instead of trying to prolong her life with intensive treatment that only had a 5% chance of working, they decided to spend the remaining month together, every second of the day, doing what they loved to do. Before she left this earth, they would make every kind of memory together. 

And so they did, right up till the day she was so incredibly weak that she could not lift herself out of bed. Her time had come and they both knew it. Before she went to sleep, he sang her a tune he had recently composed while he held her thin hand. As her eyes closed, she whispered a soft ‘I love you’. He squeezed her hand tighter in response, his voice shaking as the last word left his lips. Her hand was limp in his and he knew she had left him. 

The next few months went by like a haze. No matter how much he tried to coax a coherent melody out of the piano, nothing seemed to fit together. Lyrics were dull and lack luster and even the record company was reluctant to put out his songs. His life was equally meaningless and tedious. He retreated into himself, finding sanctuary in his apartment where he could still imagine her presence. Her belongings were left the same way they had been, as if she had never left. When he missed her smell, he would take out his old scores and try to catch a whiff of her lipstick signature. He would press his lips to the outline of hers and imagine it was her lips that he was kissing. 

Only when his body demanded exercise, then he would take to the streets like today. Thankfully, the streets were devoid of people. No sounds to distract his thoughts, no eyes regarding his disheveled appearance. He could walk down the road and pretend he was the only one left in the world. 

As he trudged down the deserted street, he lifted his head up to look at the grey sky. The wind whipped his face as he searched the vast sky for clouds. In his mind, he could hear her sweet laughter as she pointed out the shapes of different clouds and made up stories about them. Smiling softly at the memory, he felt the familiar prick of tears behind his eyelids and he shifted his gaze back to the pavement. 

Looking around him, he realized he had subconsciously ventured into the older and more affluent part of town. He used to come here often with her for it was her favorite part of town. She loved the Victorian style houses and in particular, she had fallen head over heels for the old and rustic apartment building that he now stood in front of. It was a three stories building with the characteristic long windows and brick red color. For a while now, it had been vacant because it was going to be torn down soon to make way for newer buildings. Many a time, she had complained that it was a waste and sometimes, they would sneak into the building to have a look around.

He ran his fingers along the rough surface of the brick, recalling each rendezvous they had in the abandoned building. But even this building would be tore down, along with the memories contained in it. He was slowly losing bits of her. No matter how hard he tried to remember every single memory with her, it was getting vaguer and vaguer. Why was life so cruel?

Letting out a resigned sigh, he turned around, planning to head back home when the wind carried an ethereal voice down to him. He halted in mid step, his eyes widening in shock as he registered the timbre of the voice. Spinning around, he stood still and attuned his ears to the sweet sound. 

It was coming from the top floor of the building. Without hesitating, he swiftly climbed over the gate and ran towards the front door. Yanking it open, he could hear the sound echoing through the confines of the old building. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, his heart racing in his chest. The voice was so similar to hers but yet more surreal. What was even stranger was that the melody was a different arrangement of the one that he had been composing just this afternoon. It had the same composition, yet just by switching the notes and adjusting the rhythm, it had become so much more beautiful and fluid. He could sense that it was the same kind of genius that she had so often used to help him with his pieces.  The delicacy of the notes struck a chord with him, sending his senses into overdrive.

His hands trembled as he reached the top of the stairs, the source of the music getting nearer. The pounding of his heart matched the quickening rhythm of the piece, signaling a grand finale. As he closed the distance to the apartment door, the high trill notes hung in the air, drawing a close to the piece.

Hastily pushing the door open, he held his breath as his gaze swept over the room. There was no one and nothing in sight, save for the grand piano that stood dead center in the room. His eyes fell on the few pieces of paper that laid neatly on top of the piano and he ran towards it, his snow-coated boots thudding on the wooden floor. 

His trembling fingers reached for the pile of papers and he scanned through the score, playing it in his mind. It was exactly the same piece he had heard. As he reached the last page, his eyes fell upon a little heart at the bottom. He bit his bottom lip as he recognized the writing etched inside the red heart. A single tear ran down his cheek as he pressed his lips to the signature. He closed his eyes as he recited her words to himself, etching it in his heart so that he would never forget it. Words that saved his soul and would always remind him that no matter what….

 

_I’ll always be with you, Levi._


End file.
